


Mosaic

by aderyn



Series: Stranger [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Twins, genomes - Freeform, the strangeness of Sherlock, working without a map
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:11:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock," John says, fresh from the pub,<br/>"you know you're the only man I've ever hit out of love."</p>
<p>Sherlock has long ago parsed the patchwork of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mosaic

**"** _There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic." --Anais Nin **  
**_

 

He’s never said to anyone, but she helps him sometimes,

his lost twin, Chimera Mosaic Holmes, or no, her chemical

signature, her patchwork of genome, her ragged

spectacular breath.

He did say it once to Lestrade, who thought he was high. (He was.)

He did say it once to Lestrade who said,

_we all have our things_ ,

and showed him a picture

of his lost son.

*******  
"Sherlock," John says, fresh from the pub,  
  
"You know you're the only man I've ever hit out of love."  
  
Sherlock stops, eye to the lens.

"And you're the only man," John says, slow, palm to the edge,  
  
"I'd ever consider kissing."

Sherlock stops, puts the ocular at bay, stands back,

puts his arms behind his spine.  
  
What is this John, he could say.  
  
Are you all right John, he could say,  
  
but he says instead,  
  
"Have at it then."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I did say."  
  
There's no point in getting lost, is what John thinks.   
  
Which hesitation will do.  
  
 *****  
** He's been lost before, in the desert,  
  
with its pied rock  
  
and its bruises.  
  
Hell, he is. Mapless, that is.  
  
Sometimes we love outside the lines,  
  
and there’s very little to be done about it.  
  
 *******  
It's like this.

Sherlock was born alone,

though that wasn’t meant,

and he grew up, and he kissed a girl who looked like Sally,

and a boy who looked like Molly,  
  
and Sherlock has long ago parsed the patchwork of himself.  
  
Sherlock has touched  ...oh, best not to go there.  
  
He's done enough. He knows.  
  
He's been lost before, but never in London.  
  
Never like this.  
  
 *******  
He wouldn't tell John but she wakes him sometimes;  
  
she comes to life and she looks at him and she looks like him,  
  
hair with a bit more burn, eyes with a bit more storm.  
  
She takes a breath and she lifts his arms and she says,  
  
Oh there boy,  
  
little brother,  
  
I might have been  
  
I might have been  
  
smarter than the both of you.

 


End file.
